


but blood is thicker

by agent_izhyper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (aka fuck you jeff davis), Angst, EVERYTHING FEELS, Pack Feels, dealing with loss?, ep23: insatiable, scallison feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_izhyper/pseuds/agent_izhyper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they do what they do. They do what they <em>have</em> to. They fight. They carry on.</p><p>Some of them numb the pain before it cripples them; others use it to fuel their anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but blood is thicker

**Author's Note:**

> this is me, venting. i have an overabundance of feels. so. yay. feels-venting in a fic.  
> *curls up in blanket burrito and stares with wide-eyed blankness at nothing*

****

It takes time to process, like things do. After the initial shock, everything goes downhill – quickly, like whoever’s in charge saw an opening, _a crack_ , and decided to just pelt them with everything all at once. They don’t have time for recuperation. They can’t stop for much more than a deep breath here, a moment to stare blankly around at their ragtag little group.

 

Time isn’t exactly a commodity. There’s just too much, so _so_ much, going on, too many issues to deal with and try to solve and they have to be alert, they have to be on their guard all the time _always_ – they need to watch each others’ backs as well as their own because the last time they didn’t – the last they had _one moment_ , a split second, of weakness…

 

The last time. It isn’t something they can afford, again or ever; not something they can _handle_ , no-one should be able to take this, any of it.

 

So they do what they do. They do what they _have_ to. They fight. They carry on. There’s still the nogitsune, the Oni now on its side, there’s chaos everywhere and they have to work _fast_ to do this.

 

Some of them numb the pain before it cripples them; others use it to fuel their anger.

 

Isaac retreats into himself, but one look at the deep, dark, _vicious_ intensity in his eyes is enough. He refuses to stop. Fights and fights until he’s got almost nothing left, and even then he dredges up more strength from somewhere deep inside and unleashes it on anyone who tried to get too close. It’s one blow too many, one loss too deep, and that empty feel behind his gaze? That loss of light? It’s just one more casualty along the way, one less thing to hold onto, because why should he?

 

Lydia is… Lydia has been tough, she’s taken shock after shock since everything started, but something about this ordeal leaves her hardened like nothing has before. Shaken, to the very core, but no less fierce – if anything, she fights back more than ever. Because she was her best friend and she was _there_ for it all, and if there’s one thing Lydia won’t do, it’s go down without a fight after what they did. So she takes the memories and the heavy feeling in her gut weighing down her every step, the lump in her throat that rips her voice away, the _voices_ and the _screams_ and honours the memory of the strongest girl, strongest _woman_ , she’d ever known. She honours it and honours _her_ – and she fights and struggles against it all until they come out on top. Whatever she has to do to make sure it wasn’t all in vain, she does it. There’s no time for anything else.

 

Scott doesn’t say much more than handing out instructions and plans. Sometimes, when there’s a lull in the seemingly-endless battles, he stands slumped in the shadows and stares down at his hand, clenching it shut when all he can feel now is the smooth cold touch of pain-free skin, the gut-punch that stole his breath the moment he realized- the moment he knew… “ _That’s because it doesn't hurt_ ”. And if he re-enters the fighting with a near-savage wildness in his Alpha-red eyes and a roar that shakes the walls, well, he might as well put his werewolf skills to good use because if he can’t fight off the fuckers who _stabbed her_ , who gave her wounds he couldn’t stop, _wasn’t there_ to stop, didn’t have the ability to soften the blow or ease the pain _of which there was none_ because she was- they were-

 

He just… lets the wolf out, and fights.

 

For the others, it’s no different. At the end, when all is said and done, as they splay out amidst the remains of another enemy in a long list of evil they’ve faced… Scott looks around at the people with him. His family. His friends. His _pack_. And for one second, for just that _one small moment_ , he seeks out the trusty bow held in clever hands, the dimpled smile and glowing eyes, ready to acknlowedge her – and everyone’s – parts in the combat. But his eyes slide over the bloodied werewolves, over Kira and the Sheriff and an unconscious Stiles – just the one, just himself, and Scott is prepared to let him sleep for a year after this because he’s been out of it for ages and he doesn’t even really _know_ yet – and it’s that, that realization, and his gaze skips over to the prone kneeling body of Chris Argent-

 

That’s it.

 

It’s worse than a blow, worse than a gunshot and broken bones and worse than being impaled by his possessed best friend – it’s ultimately worse than _anything_ because _at least they heal_. At least they heal.

 

This? This is like someone took a jagged blunt machete and tried to sever a limb or two. And after failing that, they just… ripped his arms and legs off with their bare hands – pulling and tearing until the ground spins under him, and his knees give out and he slams down, _hard_. It’s this deep deep cavity in his chest, this hole that makes his heart beat _slow_ and hard, like it’s trying to make up for the emptiness with more blood pumping through it or _something_ only it doesn’t, it can’t, of course it can’t. Inside, his wolf jumps out and he lets it, throws his head up and glares at the moon through tear-laden red eyes, and he _howls_. And it’s loud and echoes through the silence and is _heavy_ with sorrow, with loss and pain and guilt; ragged, like it’s being torn from him, and it might as well be.

 

Because Allison… Allison’s _gone_.

 

And the loss settles heavy on his whole being; he feels it in his heart and his limbs, in every movement and sound he makes.

 

And he knows… he _knows_ this isn’t just going to go away.

 

But he doesn’t let it pull him down. Doesn’t let it pull _any_ of them down. Allison was a fighter, and she was strong and brave and so _so_ human. So he will carry on. They will continue fighting.

 

For her.

**Author's Note:**

> so that wasn't even a quarter of the feels im having atm, but yeah. just posting this up for the sake of it because otherwise it'll just sit in my folder and stare at me. and no go away dont want these feels anymore.  
> *floats off to happy!verse where the pack is complete with boyd and erica and not-a-huge-douche!jackson AND ALLISON TYVM and derek gets nice things and stiles is still a hilarious adorkable idiots and EVERYTHING IS HAPPY* no one touch me
> 
> (p.s., sorry if anything up there was incoherent or didnt make sense. like i said, this isnt exactly post-worthy, but it needed to be written and it had to go somewhere so.)


End file.
